


Sink or Swim

by Pers



Category: Whitechapel (TV)
Genre: Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 10:40:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20080822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pers/pseuds/Pers
Summary: “What else is left?” Riley wanted to know.Mansell scrolled through the list of team building activities until he found the only one still available.“Synchronized swimming.”





	Sink or Swim

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vix_spes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vix_spes/gifts), [slightlytookish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slightlytookish/gifts).

“Miles! MILES!” 

Chandler crossed the incident room in large strides and beckoned Miles to follow him into his small office.

“What’s the matter, Joe?” Miles asked after Chandler had closed the door behind them, blocking the curious stares from the rest of the team. Chandler looked positively flustered.

“What’s this about another team building event?” he asked. “The head of the traffic department stopped me in the hallway, asking me which activity we’d signed up for, and I didn’t know anything about it. It made me look like an incompetent fool!”

“Wouldn’t be the first time someone called you that,” Miles said with a shrug, “but that doesn’t mean it’s true.”

“Miles! You’re supposed to keep me informed about these things!”

Chandler had picked up his jar of tiger balm and was massaging some of it into his temple. 

“Now that I think about it,” Miles said, “there was a memo about some kind of team building exercise. It arrived just as I was leaving for my holiday. I asked Mansell to give it to you.”

Miles paused, and he and Chandler looked at each other. Then Chandler pulled open the door and strode back into the incident room with a face like thunder.

”Mansell!”

Mansell looked up from where he’d been eating his sandwich. “What is it? Did we get a case?”

There was a sudden shift in the atmosphere as everyone drew closer. They hadn’t had a proper case in months.

“The memo,” Miles barked. “What happened to the memo?”

“What memo?”

“The one that arrived about three weeks ago when I was leaving for my holiday. I specifically told you to give it to the boss.”

“Oh, that memo. Hang on,” Mansell said, putting down his sandwich. He started going through the tall stack of papers on his desk. “I’m sure it must be here somewhere...”

Miles impatiently tapped his foot while Mansell searched, and Chandler applied some more tiger balm. Finally, Mansell unearthed a grease-stained piece of paper. 

“Team building exercise? Is this it?”

“Give me that!” 

Miles snatched the paper from Mansell’s grasp and quickly read through the document with Chandler looking over his shoulder.

“We have to do another team building exercise?” Kent asked. “I hope it’s not zombies again.”

“Or paintball,” Riley added, remembering the rather gruesome events of their previous team building exercise.

“There are several activities to choose from,” Chandler read aloud. “Each team’s performance will be rated by a group of independent judges, and the best team will receive a trophy.”

“Sounds like fun. I can’t wait,” Kent said, sounding not in the least like he was looking forward to it.

“The deadline to sign up for the activities is today,” Miles told them.

“So we’re not too late after all,” Chandler said. “What a relief.”

There was a website where they were supposed to sign up, and as they were already gathered around Mansell’s desk, it fell to Mansell to fill out the sign-up form. The others watched as he typed in their team name painstakingly slow with two fingers. Finally, they were on the next step of the form, choosing the activity.

“Oh no, most of them have already been taken,” Riley said. “Look, there was one for rehearsing and performing a play. That would have been fun!”

“Or rock climbing!” Kent added.

“No use crying over spilt milk,” Miles told them. “Mansell, scroll down towards the ones that haven’t been taken yet.”

“There’s one!” Kent exclaimed excitedly. “Oh. Uhm. Ukulele band?”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Chandler said. It certainly beat having to run from zombies again, and he was sure he could find a good selection of songs to play.

“Then let’s sign up for it, quick,” Miles said. But just as they were watching, the ukulele band activity was marked as unavailable. The team let out a collective groan.

“What else is left?” Riley wanted to know.

Mansell scrolled through the list of team building activities until he found the only one still available.

“Synchronized swimming.”

* * *

There was no getting out of it, so a week later, the team assembled at the local swimming-pool. 

“Right, you lot,” Miles called out. “I hope everyone knows how to swim.”

“Of course, Miles,” Chandler replied. He was equipped with speedos, a pair of swimming goggles, a bathing cap and a nose clip.

“Well, I wasn’t talking about you,” Miles muttered. He wasn’t worried about Riley either, because he knew she regularly went swimming with her kids. As for the rest of the team… 

Miles glanced over towards Kent, who stood there in baggy swimming shorts, doing his best not to stare too openly at the DI’s naked torso. Ed, on the other hand, was wearing a striped one-piece swimming costume that wouldn’t have looked out of place a century ago.

And then there was Mansell, or rather, there wasn’t.

“Where the hell is Mansell?” Miles asked.

“Coming, Skip!” Mansell called from the direction of the changing rooms. 

Chandler, who happened to look into that direction, blanched, and there were several gasps and screams from other guests at the pool. Miles turned towards the commotion and was taken aback by the sight of Mansell’s red sun-burnt skin clashing with the neon green of whatever the hell he was wearing.

“What is that?” he asked. 

“It’s a mankini!” Mansell replied, striking a pose. “I thought if we had to do this synchronized swimming thing, I might as well go all out.”

“Mansell! No one wants to see your hairy arse!” Kent called out, covering his face with both hands. 

“Why ever not?” Mansell turned around and wiggled his butt at them.

There was a strangled cry and a thud, and everyone turned towards Chandler.

“Now you’ve done it, Finley,” Riley said. “The boss has fainted away!”

* * *

After their first training session had been cut short by Chandler fainting, the team met again a week later. Riley had taken charge of the costumes, and everyone was now wearing the same kind of bathing costume. The cut was a bit like Ed’s previous one, but it was made out of a fabric that was printed with glittery scales.

“Makes me feel like a mermaid,” Riley had said with a grin as she’d distributed the costumes.

“Great idea,” Kent had replied darkly. “We’ll just blind the judges and they won’t be able to see just how miserable we are.”

They really were miserable, bobbing up and down in the water anything but synchronized. Mansell and Kent kept splashing each other with water, and Chandler pulled a face that said he needed about a pound of tiger balm.

“Perhaps we need to try again with music?” Ed suggested as they left the swimming-pool that evening. “I’ve been reading up on synchronized swimming, and it is usually accompanied by music, oftentimes a piece of classical music.”

Classical music was something Chandler had an interest in, so the very next day at work, he presented the team with his choices.

“I was looking for something short, and Bach’s Inventions came to mind,” he told them, receiving only blank stares.

“I thought he was some kind of musician. What did he invent?” Mansell asked, which made Chandler reach for his tiger balm again.

“Hmm, I think these may be a little bit too short, boss,” Riley said after having a closer look at the record sleeves. 

“Oh.” Chandler’s face fell. “How about Vivaldi then? The Four Seasons?”

“Yes, that might work.”

* * *

When they met again at the swimming-pool two nights later, Riley brought a small loudspeaker and played Vivaldi’s Summer for them as they practised.

“No, no, no, no! Mansell!” Miles shouted after they’d been swimming around in circles for ten minutes. “You’re out of sync! Again!”

“Yeah, Mansell,” Kent said with a grin, “you need to do the upstroke in time with the music!”

Mansell replied by splashing Kent with water, muttering “teacher’s pet” under his breath. 

“I just can’t concentrate with this awful music,” he complained. “It leaches all the strength out of me the longer I have to listen to it. We need something more powerful!”

“Oh.” Chandler face fell again, but he rallied quickly. “Well, do you have another music suggestion? I don’t mind as long as we don’t come in last place again this year.”

None of them wanted to come in last again because they were sick of Traffic gloating at them, and so everyone agreed to let Mansell choose the music.

* * *

“Total Eclipse of the Heart?” Kent asked. “Really?”

“Shut up and swim,” Mansell told him. “And remember, do the upstroke in time with the music!”

* * *

They were now meeting three times a week to practice, and they were getting slightly better at keeping in sync. Ed had, of course, researched the history of synchronized swimming, and had even gone so far as to put together a small routine. 

“I still don’t think we’re going to be able to convince the judges though,” Chandler said one night when they sat in the pub after practice.

“Yeah, Traffic are going to beat us. Again,” Kent muttered, playing with his beer mat.

“We need something… dramatic. A story to go with the music,” Riley thought out loud. 

“Next thing you’re going to suggest we do the routine from Dirty Dancing in the water,” Mansell scoffed. 

Riley stared at Mansell for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Mansell! That’s brilliant!” She turned towards the others. “How about, at the end of our routine, the boss lifts one of us out of the water like in that one scene in Dirty Dancing?”

“Uh,” Chandler said nervously, “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about.”

A video of said scene was soon found, and after they had watched it, Riley looked at Chandler expectantly. “Do you think you could do it, boss?”

“Uhm, I think so. But who am I supposed to lift?”

“Kent, of course. He’s the lightest of us,” Riley said matter-of-factly, which almost made Kent choke on his beer.

“Riley!” He protested. Turning towards Chandler, he added, “You don’t have to do this, sir.”

Chandler gave a small cough and straightened his shoulders. “No, I can do it. If that’s what it takes to keep us from coming in last place again, I’ll do it.”

There was a glint of determination in his eyes, and Miles rapped his knuckles against the table in acknowledgement. “You’re a brave man!”

* * *

After they got over their initial awkwardness, Chandler and Kent kept practising the move, and after a couple of weeks, they were getting the hang of it. Chandler managed to lift Kent out of the water, and Kent spread his arms and even managed to keep his legs in a horizontal line. 

“Yes, that’s it!” Riley called out. “Now we just need to work on our overall timing, and we’re all set.”

Kent wasn’t the only one that night who left practice with a big grin on his face.

* * *

The day the “group of independent judges” was supposed to visit and rate their performance drew nearer. Despite having made considerable progress in the past weeks, the team still wasn’t convinced they were going to be able to impress the judges. 

On the night before their performance, they were discussing their strategy in the pub.

“Hey,” Mansell said, “maybe Riley can use her womanly wiles to distract the judges!”

“I’ll use my womanly wiles to punch you,” Riley replied with a glare. 

“I doubt it would have worked anyway,” Kent said. “Two of the judges are women, and the third is gay.”

Everyone turned to look at Chandler. 

“What is it?” he asked, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. 

“Do you think you could perhaps turn on your charm a little?” Miles asked. “Get the judges to give us a good score?”

“But… but that would be cheating!”

“The alternative is to come in last place again,” Miles pointed out.

Chandler looked conflicted. “Miles...”

“Alright, alright, you don’t have to do it,” Miles said. ”Kent, you do it.”

“What? No way, Skip!” Kent protested.

“This is going to end in tears,” Mansell predicted. 

“Then in the name of team spirit, I shall do it!” Ed announced, earning himself a round of applause.

* * *

But none of the judges seemed particularly interested in Ed fluttering his eyelashes at them, or telling them about the history of synchronized swimming. Which meant that, sink or swim, the team was back to impressing the judges with their synchronized swimming routine.

Things went well for the first half of the song. They swam in sync most of the time, but after a while, Mansell started to lag behind, muttering something about a cramp in his leg. 

Finally, it was time for the big finish. Chandler prepared himself for lifting Kent out of the water, but out of the corner of his eyes, he noticed that Mansell was struggling to keep his head above the water. 

Chandler had only a split second to decide, and accepting his fate of being gloated at by Traffic once again, he dove for Mansell just as Kent jumped.

Because Chandler wasn’t there to lift him, Kent did a belly-flop, splashing everyone in the vicinity with water. There were shouts of protest from the judges, and confused shouts from the team, and in the midst of it all, Chandler rose up, lifting Mansell out of the water.

Mansell was doing his best impression of a gargoyle, spitting out the water he had swallowed. The judges, dripping wet, did not look impressed.

* * *

“Well, I suppose we will come in last again,” Chandler said with a sigh as they sat in their favourite pub that night.

“Thanks for saving my life, boss,” Mansell said, his voice still a little rough from having coughed up all that water. “Next round’s on me!”

* * *

Chandler steeled himself for being on the receiving end of the traffic department’s gloating, just like every year. Finally, the results were in, and the team gathered around Miles, who was holding the list.

“Who won?” Chandler asked, already suspecting the answer.

“Traffic.”

There was a collective groan, and everyone vented their frustration in different ways.

“Tsk, of course.”

“Bloody wankers.”

“It’s so unfair!”

“We should have tried sabotaging them!”

“Which place did we come in?” Chandler asked after the ruckus had died down. 

Miles whistled. “Will wonders never cease? We came in second to last!”

Now there was a collective cheer and a round of applause, as the team congratulated each other. 

“This calls for a celebration!” Ed said. 

“Get out the champagne!” Mansell added.

“Who came in last?” Chandler asked out of curiosity.

“The ukulele band,” Miles replied with a grin. “Apparently, the judges really didn’t like their rendition of _Lady of Spain_!”


End file.
